


MGS2 Simulation: Learning the Ropes

by CreativeLiterature



Series: Metal Gear Solid Simulation [1]
Category: Metal Gear
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:52:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29724456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CreativeLiterature/pseuds/CreativeLiterature
Summary: First in the MGS2 Simulation series. Five friends enter into a virtual reality simulation where they are commanders of the Big Shell, giving orders and assigning patrol routes to soldiers with the aim of achieving victory. Unbeknownst to them a sixth player tries to divide and conquer, while an undercurrent of rebellion simmers under their novice leadership.
Series: Metal Gear Solid Simulation [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2184519





	MGS2 Simulation: Learning the Ropes

_ A/N: Adam is the older brother of Grace, while Clara is the older sister of Max. Adam & Grace are cousins to Clara and Max. Zoe is the only one not related. All get on more or less well in real life. Knowing them in real life, I try to depict them as best I can in this MGS simulation, the game of which we all love so much). Adam is of course me, I am aware it switches from 1st person to 3rd person for that particular character but it helps my writing flow not to limit the view from which I do so. _

_Very old fic!_

The virtual reality simulation we entered into was based around Metal Gear Solid 2: Sons of Liberty.

We were assigned to guard the Big Shell structure, two hexagonal divisions connected side-by-side, filled with armed guards, and to prevent any conflict either from inside or out. Our characters were based on us, given weapons we selected and certain special talents aligned with our personality tests.

Here was the line-up that resulted from the tests:

Team 1:

Adam - aged 24, blonde, blue-eyed, medium build. Typically a doormat for his friends. Favourite character: Vamp

Weapons: SOCOM pistol (silenced)

Special ability: N/A

Clara - aged 23, blonde, green-eyed, slim build. Aloof and disinterested. Favourite character: Snake

Weapons: USP pistol (silenced)

Special ability: N/A

Max - aged 21, white-blonde, green-eyed, strong build. Bawdy and masculine. Favourite character: Fortune

Weapons: SPAS-12 shotgun; RGB6 grenade launcher

Special ability: N/A

Zoe - aged 22; ginger, hazel-eyed, medium build. Sarcastic and cautious. Favourite character: Cyborg Ninja

Weapons: High-frequency (HF) blade

Special ability: Stealth suit: becomes invisible for a short period of time

Grace - aged 18; black, brown, slim build. Pliant and always willing to help. Favourite character: Raiden

Weapons: N/A

Special ability: Can access B2 computer terminal

(Secret) Team 2:

James - aged 25, black, hazel, firm build

Weapons: M9 tranq pistol

Special ability: Can hack into computer terminals with a disc

Adam

I looked around the computer room, surprised to see my friends standing there, in such high definition and armed with such heavy weaponry. To my left was Clara, ramrod straight and lips pursed; in front of me was Max, a discernible smirk on his face as he listened; to my right was Zoe, chewing her lip and holding the hilt of her high frequency blade, and a little to the side was Grace, looking completely uncomfortable with no weapon to hold.

"You will each be assigned an area of the Big Shell to guard," spoke the familiar parrot that sat atop the bank of computers, encased in a cage. "You will be responsible for checking that your health is at its prime, your weapons have enough ammunition and that your teammates can rely on your support."

"What if we - " asked Max.

"Questions at the end," interrupted the parrot. "Three of you will look over two struts each, while the fourth will oversee the security of Shell 1. The fifth will stay in the computer room and be responsible not for overseeing soldiers, but monitoring the security cameras to log anomalies, ensure keycard access is up-to-date and functional, and check that stock supplies of food and ammunition are coming in as required."

The parrot took a deep breath and continued,

"There may be crises that spring from time to time. These are to test your mettle for the real challenge, which will be uncovered later. I repeat: if you do not keep a handle on yourself and your men, you will not be able to work as a team and it is unlikely you will succeed in the challenge. Remember, you will need the cooperation of each other to complete these tasks, so check in with each other often."

Clara and Max, both uncooperative, merely stared ahead, while Zoe stared at the floor and Grace filed an errant nail. I was more than keen to do this!

"As you rise through the ranks, you will be gifted certain clearances. You will be given a privilege alongside your special ability to complement your efforts and your chances of survival in the challenge to come."

Max took a huge sigh. "When do we - "

"Each of the struts serves a purpose for the functioning of the Big Shell, so you will need to monitor each, if chosen. Strut A ensures that pumps throughout the complex run efficiently, for disposal of sewage and waste. The dock on the lower level has a submarine which checks for underwater repairs."

"Strut B contains all the electric generators of the facility. If any of them are to go out, light and heating will be among the first to go."

"Strut C is the mess hall. This is where the soldiers will unwind after handing over their shifts to the next soldier. It contains a dining hall and kitchen, with restrooms. Keeping this strut well stocked and clean will improve soldier morale - important for keeping your soldiers in line."

"Strut D is the sediment pool. It filtrates clean water for washing and drinking. This is where to must align goals with each other. If Strut A breaks down, it cannot remove the waste and you will drink dirty water and become sick."

Zoe shuddered despite herself. The reality of the situation was slowly beginning to settle in.

"Strut E manages the receiving and sending of parcels and packages throughout the struts. It provides tools for the engineers, weapon parts and ammunition for the soldiers, rations and raw food materials, uniforms and clothing, and any and all miscellaneous minutia supplementary to keeping the Big Shell running. Without this, you would not receive any new items to outfit you or your men with."

"Strut F is where anything excess is kept; weapons, equipment, uniforms. It is a treasure trove housing all one would need to equip themselves."

"Finally, Shell 1. The centre of Big Shell. It is accessed through the connecting bridges of Struts B-C or Struts E-F. The first floor houses a locker room used by the soldiers stationed inside. An elevator grants access to the lower levels only by visual confirmation of the security camera above it. This is the only way to get inside - and if there is nobody to man the B2 computer room, you will all be locked out."

"The B1 level is a mess hall for the soldiers, with a small locker room. It also contains, via biometric access, your own personal cache where you can store anything excess you don't want the soldiers to touch."

"Why would they touch our stuff?" asked Clara, imperiously. "Aren't they programmed to obey our orders?"

"They will obey," spoke the parrot, "If you give them reason to obey."

"That's bullshit," said Max. "Why does she get her question answered first?"

The parrot ignored him. "All of you will be in a position to allow one another to control your soldiers and keep them out of restricted areas by being given key cards to access level-specific rooms. But you are, in turn, guarded by soldiers who require incentive and motivation as a reward for due service."

"What, do we pay them?" joked Zoe, laughing feebly.

"It is a simple matter of keeping them happy. They are programmed to think and talk for themselves, but their core concept is that there is a looming threat they won't survive without stout leadership. If you give them cause to think otherwise, they may disobey you or turn on you."

"Then we'll kill them," replied Clara.

"Yeah," agreed Max.

"As I was saying." continued the parrot. "Finally, the B2 computer room. This is for when you wish to rely on surveillance and remote access of the plant. In the right hands, the B2 computer room will accomplish all your desires and more. The fifth person will be responsible for this hub. You will be able to view camera feeds, review security clearances and monitor strut efficiency and communicate problems as needed. The only catch is, the fifth person who controls the computer room will have no authority with soldiers. They will be a glorified technician."

"So, the fifth person has to stay in the computer room all the time?" asked Clara. "What a joke."

"Are we not allowed to leave?" asked Zoe, with mock gravity.

"The choice is yours. I am merely suggesting a course of action," said the parrot. "As long as you complete the challenge, you need not fear any other penalty. It is suggested that you enforce cooperation. It is insisted that you keep the struts in working order, because they work to provide you with food, water, shelter and munitions."

"So there's no penalty for deserting your station?" I asked aloud what everyone was thinking.

"None. But it is suggested that you keep an eye on things. You are all delegated different tasks and cannot switch. It is wise to remember who does what, whom orders who, where everyone is."

Zoe shuffled uncomfortably, while Grace let out a sigh of boredom.

"Finally, you will be assigned your orders and soldiers who will be under your control."

Everyone noticeably took attention, beside Grace, who watched mutely from the sidelines.

"Adam will be assigned Struts A and D. Clara will be assigned Struts B and E. Max will be assigned Struts C and F. Zoe will be assigned to the security for the Shell 1 core. Grace will be in command of the computer room."

Clara and Zoe remained silent, while I cheered in silent triumph, Max grinned wryly and Grace screeched, "Stuck in a computer room?" Her tone was petulant.

"All of you will be in command of a number of soldiers, whose numbers will vary according to posts required by each strut. They wear dog tags for identification, though it isn't necessary to develop anything more than a professional rapport with them. You must ensure that each of them is properly equipped and attired, ready for duty and performing said duties, and compliant under your control."

"They'll obey any order we give them?" Zoe asked, laughing.

"Depends on the order," said the parrot. "But depends on the one in command, too."

"Adam, you are to meet your soldiers atop Strut A. Clara, on the helipad of Strut E. Max, in the mess hall of Strut C. Zoe and Grace, you two are to wait here and soldiers will file in shortly."

Sullenly, Clara filed out first, while I followed, Max not far behind. The glass partitions surrounding the banks of computers inside the room shielded Zoe and Grace from bullets and sight, but little else. I wondered how Grace would fare with little to do.

Zoe

Zoe hopped from one foot to the other, clearly perturbed, though her face became a mask and her posture rigid as the soldiers filed into the computer room. One by one they filed, wearing grey uniforms fitted with AK-74u assault rifles slung around their necks, holstered pistols at their waists, sheathed knives and fragmentation grenades strapped to their belts. They all wore balaclavas along with fingerless gloves to clutch their weapon and black boots strapped tight. They were all indistinguishable except in their conduct; some glanced aimlessly around at the computers, others sized up Zoe who stood rigid and Grace who slouched in the corner, spinning on a swivel chair as the parrot fed her instructions on how to use the mainframe computer. There were fifteen guards under her control, and Zoe thought what a motley crew they were just by looking at them.

"Howdy," said one, stepping forward to shake her hand. His Russian accent was strong.

"You will all line up at once," ordered Zoe in a brittle tone, ignoring him. There were a few laughs as the soldier retracted his hand and formed his shoulders stout, though this was a preamble for the further humour which rocked lightly through the group.

"Stop it!" she said, her cheeks flaming in indignation. She caught sight of her reflection in the glass panels that enclosed the computer banks and paled. She still had the ginger hair, the pallid complexion dotted with freckles and what was undeniably an immature stature to these soldiers, all of whom had been trained on military soil and contained what was commonly referred to as 'bawdy humour'.

Her grip tightened on her high-frequency blade, the only element within her control and she raised it only to slam it upon the ground, an epic twanging resonating from the impact.

Everyone shut up, including Grace, who turned around in earnest surprise. Blood flowing through her head, Zoe could barely see straight, her fury remaining but her vigour gone.

"All of you will line up at once," she said, her voice shaking as she realised how real this all was, how utterly unequipped she felt to command virtual strangers to commit to her influence.

"We're only playing with you," said the soldier, his accent twanging like the tempo of blood in Zoe's pulse. "Don't take it personal, now. We're all friendly here."

The sudden smirk and suggestive tone sent Zoe over the edge, but inside she was rallying an insane urge to cut this man's throat out. His impertinence, his… insubordination…

"Let's leave the girl alone," spoke another, undeniably ethnic in his tone. "Bitch needs her hormone treatment - "

Zoe snapped. In one, fluid movement, she thrust her sword up into the throat of the man who spoke and withdrew it just as cleanly, a thin spout of blood leading to a gush of blood which splattered onto the floor.

The men, shocked by the death of their comrade, readied their trigger fingers as, like dominos, they all pointed their rifles at Zoe. Grace rushed forward, swivel chair wheeling across the room in her trail as she stood in front of Zoe, arms outstretched.

"Get out of the way!" came the gruff shout of one, to acknowledging grunts and insistent, bloodthirsty nods.

The dead soldier lay in a pool of his own blood, uniform stained red, making barely comprehensible gurgling sounds. The soldier standing nearest to his comrade knelt delicately, gun still poised on Zoe as he checked his pulse.

"Don't move!" warned Grace, unsure of what he was doing.

"Lower your guns," warned Zoe, feeling invincible from the kill.

"You think you can kill one of our brothers and get away with it, puta?" came the Latino accent of one guard. He spat at her feet.

Zoe activated her stealth device and felt her body shift as gasps and cries of surprise came from Grace and the guards. Zoe looked down at herself and could not see anything, though she knew where her body was and how much space it took up, regardless.

"What the fuck?" shouted one.

"Where is she?" came the Russian accent of the leader.

"Let's get the girl before she comes back," said one soldier, darting forward to grab Grace with his outstretched hands, who shrieked in mute surprise.

Zoe swung the flat side of her sword into the guard as he came close. Yelping in surprise, Zoe reappeared as her stealth device ran out of energy. The guards refocused their sights onto her, but watched warily.

"Have you forgotten why we are all here?" demanded Zoe. "Your women and children are at liberty here. I am not a force to be trifled with! If we don't hold the Big Shell, we all go down together, understand?"

"You killed Roberto," said one guard. "You're a fucking lunatic, lady."

Suddenly Zoe's resolve waned and she wished for a release.

"Go ahead, shoot me if you dare. Are you prepared to gamble with each other's lives, and those of your family?"

Noticeably, the men stiffened. Zoe stiffened more.

"You don't like me, fine. But you have a duty to come home to your family all in one piece. I will watch your back if you watch mine, and if we both get out of here alive, you can count yourselves lucky to get rid of me."

Slowly, infinitesimally, one of the soldiers lowered his rifle. And another. And a third, a fourth, until only one remained, the man with the twangy Russian accent.

"I don't like reporting to a leader," he said. "We're brothers in arms, these men and I."

"Do your job, and I'll do mine," spat Zoe, furious that she had not yet earned their acquiescence. Her patience was long gone. "Keep your head done and we'll get on just fine. There's more at stake than your fucking pride."

Grace

Grace watched as the Russian - that was what she referred to the guy with the Russian accent - acted as a sub leader for the men, breaking down patrol routes and contact points, break times and shift schedules before leading his men past the walled cubicle of the office and up the stairs to where an elevator would escort them to the first floor.

"I hate those guys," said Zoe, sitting down to relieve the stress in her head. First day on the job and already she'd earned the disrespect of the mutinous scum. "Why won't they fucking listen to me?"

Grace was sympathetic, but it wasn't long before Zoe walked off and Grace was left with the silent hum of servers and flashing of monitors. She fought back a wave of loneliness and approached the computer as the parrot had told her to. After all, it might have the Internet.

Grace placed her palm on the screen for it to register her biometric data and the program started up, a series of options spread out before her. Surveillance network… security clearances… stability reports…

"Your friends rely on your support," Grace was startled by the parrot's sudden comment. "Whether you think they do or not."

"They get to leave this room and explore," replied Grace sullenly, sitting back in her seat. "I have to make sure stock levels are adequate and the bloody toilets flush properly - "

"You are able to watch the cameras, make sure nobody steals equipment or sneaks into restricted areas, and keep your friends informed with any problems in their personnel or strut. Soon enough, they'll have more on their plate than they can handle, and it'll be you to whom they turn."

"So they can complain the food is bad?"

"You won't be in the Big Shell forever. This is a temporary assignment." the parrot reminded her. "But while you're here, things will go wrong they can't fix. They'll call you to help, Grace."

"I doubt it," she replied.

"Who else can they confide in, when their soldiers laugh at them? Until they build some trust and respect, this is the only time you will have to forge friendships with your friends. Right now, they will be relying on you until they gain the trust of their men. Make yourself indispensable. If Max talks back to you? Revoke his security clearance!"

Grace giggled despite herself.

"You are in control, Grace. At the end of the day, they have to ask you nicely for things they want."

Max

Up the elevator beside Adam and Clara, and not a word was shared. Silently, they were all excited, even Clara, but she walked off to the EF connecting bridge while Adam stayed with him towards the BC connecting bridge.

"Excited?" asked Adam, though it needed no explanation.

"Yeah," came the reply. Max was taking slow, casual strides while Adam was marching ahead, eagerness plain to see.

They emerged onto the connecting bridge and squinted against the harsh ray of sunlight which near blinded them.

"See you," said Adam, turning left towards Strut B.

Max merely turned away in reply, headed for Strut C. When he approached the door he slammed face-first into it.

"Fuck!"

Off-kilter, he glanced up at the door which should've - always - opened automatically. He banged on it with his fist, then noticed a slim keypad at the base. He pressed the 'call' button.

"Uh, hello?" answered the person in reply. It was nobody he recognised.

"Let me in!" Max shouted.

"Are you supposed to be our new boss?" grinned the other voice on the line.

Max realised with a thud that the call must've patched him through to this strut - Strut C.

"Yeah," responded Max, not without a sense of irony. He shouted back with a gleeful cry, "Let me in, boys!"

There was laughter in unison, then, "Alright." The call disconnected.

Max kicked at the door in response, irked that he had to wait like a hooker on a street. The door opened seconds later and he came face-to-face with a guard wearing a balaclava.

"Thanks," murmured Max, moving past the guard, noting how real he looked.

"You our boss?" asked the guard, managing a weak laugh.

Max turned to him, taking in the drab uniform and rifle strapped round his neck. "Come on."

Max passed the bathrooms segregated by gender, walking down the corridor and through a door which led into the cafeteria. A dozen soldiers sat on the table, quietly contemplating or stood about, talking amongst themselves. All turned their heads when Max walked in, some getting to their feet at his arrival.

"Boss," said one, nodding. Max took little notice and gave the room a cursory look.

"Better get on your rounds," said Max, cracking a smile. "Don't want the guys in charge to pull a stink."

They laughed at his open, coarse dialogue and warmed to him slightly. "Did you hear about what happened in the computer room, boss?"

"What happened?" grinned Max, his brow furrowed.

"Some crazy bitch with a sword cut up one of the boys nice and good," whistled another.

"When?" Max asked, taking a seat.

"We heard it on the intercom." replied another.

Max gave a noncommittal shrug. "She's a ginger, that's what," said he, to an outbreak of laughter.

Max stood and gave the room another look. "What food do we have here?"

"We get rations, boss, once a week," said one, motioning to the boxes stored in a corner.

"How do they taste?" asked Max, snatching one off a nearby soldier's plate and eating it with gusto. His face soured and he spat it out, chewed portions and all to general laughter. "This is fucking shit!"

Max wiped his mouth and looked up at the soldier whose meal he had stolen. "You eat this?"

"'Tis all we got, boss," he cracked a smile.

"Tastes like bird seed and shit," said Max, standing. He noticed that several of the guards stood in respect, but Max took no notice. "I'll get us some real food."

"You serious?" asked one, relieved. "We can't get on the radio to HQ."

Max arched an eyebrow. "You leave it to me," he said, meaning it.

Clara

Clara walked onto the EF connecting bridge, the soft breeze a delight until she turned left into Strut E. The place was one, loud conveyor belt, moving packages here and there amid a wild collection of boxes waiting to be transported. Through the mechanised maze she walked until she reached an alcove where the staircase led her up onto the helipad.

She was out into the fresh air again. Here she rose another long set of stairs, from where she could see the layout of the Big Shell quite clearly. The EF connecting bridge was there in all its glory, and the tops of the other struts including the Shell 1 core were visible, plain as day in the bright sunlight. Clara squinted as she turned and walked onto the helipad, packed with shelves of pipes and large, metal containers. At the far end she could see the soldiers waiting for instruction, their laughter carrying with the wind, toting their rifles harmlessly or scuffing their boots against the concrete lazily. Clara stiffened, wondering how she expected such useless idiots to defend her struts. She was not going to lose the challenge because of these guys.

She walked up to them, ignoring their obvious stares and glancing out to the horizon beyond.

"I'm your commander, Clara," she began, quite uninterested. "Everybody is to pick a route to patrol and keep your eyes posted. I don't want any intruders getting in."

"Not even if you're lonely?" sniggered one, to the quiet amusement of others.

Clara ignored him. "I am in charge along with Adam, Max and Zoe. If you see any problems, come to me."

"Yeah, I have a problem," said one soldier, swaggering forward to the private amusement of many. He grabbed his crotch and shook it. "A huge problem. Fancy you help me with it?"

Clara looked away, then quite calmly retrieved the pistol from her hip and fired at the ground between the soldier's legs. He jumped back a step.

"Any of you being dickheads will be taken off duty," said Clara dryly. "Now, follow me and I'll assign everybody patrol routes."

Clara left two soldiers to guard the heliport and one for the balcony underneath. She put three in Strut E, at different points around the conveyor belt, and one further downstairs.

"Radio me if there are any problems," Clara told one guard. "Which way do I go if I want to reach Strut B?"

"Quickest way would be through Shell 1," said a guard who had yet to be assigned.

"Alright," said Clara, leading the remaining guards with her.

She exited onto the EF connecting bridge, leaving one soldier to patrol it. She glanced up, towards Strut E's heliport and saw that there was no soldier at the top of the stairs, using the binoculars to scout as she had instructed. She reached for her radio and set it to the frequency 141.88.

"Clara!" came Grace's excited voice on the other end.

"How do I call guards on my radio?" she asked without preamble.

"Um," Grace tapped a few keys. "Which one do you want to talk to?"

"I don't know," she scoffed. "They all look the same. The one I put on the heliport. He's not looking for intruders on the bridge to Shell 1."

"Each guard should have numbers on their uniform, colour coded with their rank." replied Grace.

Clara glanced at one soldier, noticing on his pocket there was a barely discernible '4' in gold.

"Number 13, commander," spoke a different soldier suddenly. Clara glanced at him. "The radio channel for soldiers is 140. Adjust the dial for 140.13."

"OK. Thanks," said Clara, closing the communication before Grace could say anything further. She spun the dial to 140.13 and waited.

"Yeah?" came the reply.

"I can see you're not at your station," said Clara, shielding her eyes from the sun's glare as she glanced skyward. "Go there immediately."

"Yes, ma'am," smirked he, before Clara disconnected. She turned to the soldier she had posted on the bridge. "Let me know if he leaves before his break."

"Yes, commander," he replied, nodding.

That's more like it, Clara thought grimly.

She crossed the bridge to Shell 1 core, but when she reached the door, it was locked. She sighed in irritation and called Grace again.

"Hi, Clara."

"You need to let me into Shell 1," said Clara. "Can't you put my access card up to the max level?"

"Sure, Clara," came the harried reply, as Grace tapped a few buttons. The door suddenly slid open and Grace barely managed a "There you go, Clara," before Clara disconnected and walked through the door.

Here, the security was tighter. There was a security camera above the door monitoring who came and went, and Clara noticed soldiers identical to hers but with silver numbers on their pockets patrolling the hallways. The mixed bands of soldiers made eye contact and greeted each other, but Clara reprimanded them.

"You can chat on your break," she said. "Get a move on."

When Clara reached the elevator that descended to the lower levels, she noticed that the access button was watched over by a security camera and two guards flanked it, rifles ready.

They stiffened when they saw her, but relaxed when they realised it wasn't Zoe.

"Where's Zoe?" asked Clara.

One shrugged. "She's everywhere," he mumbled, before straightening his posture.

"Jeez," commented Clara aloud. "Does she give you all a hard time?"

She didn't wait for an answer and walked off, exiting the Shell 1 core. Across the BC connecting bridge and turned left into Strut B.

Strut B was one large power source, with transformer boards lining much of the walls and large, fenced off sections for the generators. There were a few paltry lockers to one side but that was it. Clara assigned two guards to the inner area where the generators were and another two to the hallway where the transformer boards were. Now she was left with three guards. She posted one to the AB and another to the BC connecting bridge, and the final she bade patrol the DE connecting bridge.

"That'll be all," she said, beginning rounds of her own. She had to check these buggers were worth their while.

Grace

Grace clicked on 'security clearances' and a tech tree diagram was displayed on the screen, showing her four friends and the unit of soldiers each commanded, about a dozen or so.

"Your friends and soldiers under their command can only unlock doors up to their access level," explained the parrot, indispensable for advice. "All doors come pre-coded with levels. If you click on the upper right hand corner, you can change the view from 'employees' to 'areas'."

Grace changed the view and now she saw a diagram of Shell 1, a core connected by bridges to six interlocking struts.

"Let's go through each strut one by one and set the levels required to access them. Strut A…"

Strut A was given level-1 access all over, as was Struts B, D and E. Strut C's exception was the food cupboard, which contained contraband meals of sustenance. It was given level-2 access.

"Do I have to walk that far for food?" asked Grace.

"No. Strut E will deliver meals directly and you can eat them here." replied the parrot.

"What about the toilet? And bedrooms?" asked Grace.

"There is a bathroom within the secure section of B1, which is also where your sleeping quarters are located."

"Who takes over for me when I go to sleep?" asked Grace.

"The computer's AI," said the parrot. "It will send an alarm if it notices anomalies. But it is a basic function, you'd rather rely on your own instincts I'm sure."

"And I can't just relax and let the computer work all day?" smiled Grace.

"What else do you have to do?" asked the parrot, and Grace nodded in assent.

"Back onto the security clearances of each strut." the parrot reminded her.

Grace clicked onto Strut F. "That's Max's one," she commented.

She put level-1 access on the entry doors, but was advised by the parrot to put level-2 access on the rooms which contained the heavy weaponry, such as grenade or rocket launchers.

"The soldiers can access their lockers for ammunition for their own weapons, but why should they be able to access bigger weapons?"

"In case they decide to take things into their own hands?" asked Grace.

"Precisely," advised the parrot.

Now it was onto the Shell 1 core. The entrances, which led from either the BC or EF connecting bridge were preset to level-2 access.

"Why's that?" asked Grace.

"The Shell 1 core requires tight security. The soldiers guarding the struts have no business entering. It would only create confusion if a uniform was to get into the wrong hands."

"Oh, I get it now."

"You will note that the elevator on the first floor doesn't have an access card. Instead, anybody wishing to go down will have to wait for confirmation from the security camera. This will be your call to make."

"Why would anybody besides my friends want to come down?" asked Grace.

"In any case, whenever someone accesses the elevator, the node terminal on the right will beep and you will have to press the button to open the elevator doors."

"OK," Grace agreed.

"Now onto the B1 floor. This is where the mess hall is located for the soldiers patrolling the Shell 1 core. It is also where the biometric scanner is, for you and your friends to access by placing your handprint against the pad beside the door."

"The soldiers can't access it?" asked Grace.

"No." replied the parrot. "Finally, in the B2 computer room. Do you see any soldiers here?"

Grace glanced about over the glass partitions which separated her from the wraparound hallway and set of stairs on either side leading up to the elevator. There was little else beside lockers and a bathroom.

"The elevator will open automatically if you call it while on B1 or B2. This is so you can return after a good night's sleep."

"Doesn't that mean that soldiers from B1 can come down here when they like?" asked Grace.

"Directly outside the elevator to B2 are two doors which can be set with an access level."

"I'd want the highest, wouldn't I?" Grace said, mouse poised over level-3 access.

"Then the soldiers couldn't come to your aid," remarked the parrot. "On the other hand…"

Grace waited, but the parrot said nothing further. This was one of those annoying times when she was expected to make the right decision, with the pressure of helping her friends.

She set the access level for the B2 computer room at level-2, knowing all soldiers in the Shell 1 core also had level-2 access on their key cards. She switched the view from 'areas' to 'employees', the tech tree diagram showing up again. She checked that all soldiers under Zoe's control had level-2 access, then gave level-1 access to each soldier under Clara, Adam and Max's control. Finally, she granted level-3 access to Adam, Clara, Max, Zoe and herself before swinging on her swivel chair and staring at the screen again.

"So what do I put level-3 access on, then?" asked Grace, but the parrot remained silent. "Maybe areas only that me and my friends can access."

Grace clicked on Strut F and for all the rooms that contained heavy weapons, upgraded their access from level-2 to level-3. When she brought up B2 computer room on her screen, wondering whether the doors should be upgraded to level-3 to prevent soldiers coming in at all, she noticed that there was a big door underneath the staircases without an access level. She stood up and glanced out at it, but it looked no different than a wall.

"What's that door?" she asked.

"It's the Arsenal exit," explained the parrot. "It can be accessed on the same node terminal that opens the elevator. Accessing the emergency exit will sound an alarm throughout the entire Shell 1 complex and patch your codec through to all available commanders on site."

"So it's a last resort?" asked Grace.

"Precisely." replied the parrot. "If that elevator goes down, it won't come back up again."

Adam

Adam met his troops on top of Strut A, where they filed into disorderly ranks and watched him closely.

"I'm Adam, your commander while we guard the Big Shell," he said. "You haven't met the other commanders yet, so I'll introduce myself."

"How many of you are there?" asked one soldier.

"Five, in total. I will be in charge of Struts A and D. Clara is in charge of Struts B and E. Max is in charge of Struts C and F. Zoe is in charge of the Shell 1 core, and the fifth," Adam hesitated, for he did not want to let the men in that a little girl was controlling all surveillance and security throughout the complex, "The fifth is solely in charge of security and stability. I'll set your patrol routes in a moment. Now, any questions before we begin?"

"I heard one guy got slashed," said one. "From the girl who commands the Shell 1."

"What do you mean?" asked Adam. "I haven't heard anything about that."

"Yeah. Apparently he spoke back to her and she just stabs him in the throat with her sword."

"She disappeared into thin air," added another. "She's a ninja or something."

Adam tried to hide a wry smile. He knew Zoe's ability was stealth camouflage with limited use.

"She can get a bit highly strung," he commented, though the soldiers thought this an understatement. "But security in Shell 1 needs to be top notch, and I'm sure she'll make sure they accomplish that."

Adam assigned three soldiers to the Strut A dock, two on the roof, five inside and one each on the connecting bridges AB and FA. With the remaining five, three were sent to patrol Strut D and the remaining two split for either the connecting bridge CD or DE.

"Grace," Adam asked, after dialing her frequency on the codec. "Can you set my soldiers level-1 access and me level-3."

"OK… done." his sister replied.

"Thanks," he disconnected.

Zoe

Her soldiers patrolled the wraparound hallway of Shell 1's first floor, glancing occasionally at the cameras swiveling above as though they were being watched.

"Keep your eyes ahead," remarked Zoe, clad in her suit of stealth camouflage. The longer she let it charge, the longer it lasted while active. The soldier jumped, cursing under his breath when he thought she wasn't near.

What a joke, thought Zoe to herself. I never asked to command these bunch of idiots. If it wasn't for her quick sword arm and ability to disappear at will, she was sure they would turn on her.

She walked into the large locker room on the Shell 1's first floor, passing a line of lockers and approaching the node terminal at one end. After registering her handprint and granting her access, it provided her with the names and patrol schedules of all the soldiers under her control. Six soldiers prowled the wraparound hallway, while an extra two stood guard at the elevator leading to the lower levels, B1 and B2 floors.

She had assigned one guard to the retinal scanner on B1 and two were currently on break in the mess hall adjacent. She had placed two more guards on the exits to the BC and EF connecting bridges.

After checking all soldiers were on their patrols, Zoe exited via the BC connecting bridge and entered Strut C.

The place was empty but for a lone soldier making half hearted rounds, who looked up as she entered as a gust of raucous laughter came from inside the cafeteria.

"Where's Max?" asked Zoe.

"On his break," replied the soldier, just as stoutly. He ignored her, continuing on her rounds.

Great, thought Zoe, entering the women's restroom. All the soldiers will know by now. I'm not fit for duty as a commander in their eyes.

She checked her reflection in the mirror. She wore a black top underneath an army jacket and olive drab cargo pants with steel-capped boots. Her face was pale, her freckles upon an unsightly visage and her ginger hair blown into shreds through perspiration. She ran the tap over her hands and washed her face, glancing in the mirror to see Max in its reflection. Startled, she turned on him with a scowl and an indignant "Get out of here!"

"Why'd you kill one of your men?" he asked, hands in his pockets. He was the picture of a skulk.

"He stepped out of line," replied Zoe, drying her hands. "It was insubordination."

"Pfft," Max checked the gel on his hair. "They don't care about your feelings. They want to kill."

"I want to kill them," remarked Zoe. "We're in charge."

"Not if you keep offing them," replied Max.

Clara

Clara placed her hand on the node terminal and it detailed all the incoming and outgoing packages processed by Strut E. Ignoring the sound of the conveyor belt and the coughs of patrolling soldiers, she checked that rations and food supplies were headed to Strut C and a small allowance to B2 computer room. She alone was privy to the weapons and equipment which were sent to Strut F, at which point Max's men would load them into rooms separated by function. It was when she noticed that a shipment containing a RGB6 grenade launcher and accompanying ammunition was awaiting confirmation that she realised it was Max's weapon.

"What is it?" Max answered.

"There's a shipment waiting for you in Strut F. It's sensitive," she added.

"My dirty magazines?" asked Max, to his men's laughter. Clara scowled.

"Your weapon," she said, with distaste. "Get back on the job! You've got work to do."

She disconnected, then realised she had a call waiting on her codec and answered it. "What is it?"

"We've spotted a chopper," replied the soldier, one of whom she had posted atop the helipad. "ETA five minutes."

"Shit! Do we have anti-air?"

"None of us do. Unless there's a SAM in Strut F?"

"What?"

"A surface to air missile launcher - a Stinger."

"Oh," she replied. She turned to the room at length. "Men! Get to the helipad ASAP. We've got a chopper on the move."

The soldiers whooped, glad for war and ran for the staircase. She consulted the soldier on the call.

"I'm going to Strut F to check," she said. "If I'm not back in time, shoot the damn thing till it burns!"

"Yes, ma'am," he disconnected.

Several soldiers watched her as she ran across the room, heading out to the EF connecting bridge and dialing a multi-call with her codec to all commanders.

"Hello." "What now?" "Hi." "Hi, Clara."

"We've got a Kasatka incoming," said Clara. "I've got my men on the helipad ready to shoot it down. Max, is there a Stinger in Strut F?"

"How would I know?" he asked. "I haven't been over there yet."

"What do you mean you haven't been over there yet?" demanded Adam. "Who's guarding the strut?"

"You can't be serious," said Clara. Now that she was outside, she could see the blip in the sky.

"All my men are here in Strut C," said Max.

"The chopper's coming for Strut E, you dick," said Clara. "Get your men on the bridges in case it changes course. I'm looking for a Stinger."

Clara disconnected, entering Strut F and finding it deserted. Room upon room awaited her inspection. Anyone could've come here and taken anything.

"Bloody useless dick," she muttered.

Grace

Adam had joined his men atop Strut A, while Zoe remained in Shell 1 and tightened security in the core. Max had agreed to post soldiers across to Strut F to cover Clara in the meantime, though they had to go the long way around since taking the shortcut through Shell 1 was only available for commanders. Zoe had declined Max's protest to use the shortcut, so he led half his unit across to Strut E. The other half remained in Strut C.

Grace checked the surveillance network to spot the Kasatka. It was minutes from approaching. Clara's men were lined up on the helipad, while Adam's men were ready atop Strut A. Max could be seen crossing the CD connecting bridge and entering Strut D.

"There's no Stinger," Clara reported, moments later. She sounded out of breath. "I've got Max's grenade launcher, though. Where is he?"

"He just entered Strut D. I'll call him and tell him to meet you on the helipad."

"Good," she said, disconnecting the call.

Grace rang Max on the codec. "Where are you?"

"Heading to Strut E," he said.

"Clara's got your grenade launcher. Hurry up!"

Clara

Clara headed up the stairs that took her onto the heliport and saw her men, rifles readied and pointed at the sky. She noted with discontent that Max and his men were still not here.

"Get ready to fire on my command," said Clara, holstering her pistol. She readied the grenade launcher in her hands. If Max was late, it would have to be her to manage this assault.

They readied themselves, watching her aim the grenade launcher. Seeing her put herself in such a vulnerable position boosted their morale.

"Get ready…" Clara held firm, as did her men. The Kasatka flew into sight and she saw several armed men aboard. "Fire!"

Assault rifles from both sides sounded in a rhythmic tempo; her men aimed from below and the enemy from above. Clara released grenades soaring into the air, but all exploded in the air before they could reach the chopper. Bullets scattered around their feet but they held strong, killing not once but twice as the Kasatka passed them by, avoiding the rifle fire that came from atop Strut A, where Adam's men held firm.

Damaged and in need of repair, the Kasatka made its way to the BC connecting bridge, descending out of sight.

"Shit!" shouted Clara. She multi-called the Strut B soldiers. "Head to the BC bridge! They've landed."

"Yes, ma'am," said he, before disconnecting. She called Max to tell him to turn around.

James

The firefight continued above, but below James was scaling the ladder at the base of Strut E. It took him a while to reach the top, where he hoisted the trapdoor aloft and clambered into the tiny chamber.

He wore a sneaking suit, which modulated temperature and functioned as a sort of supplementary kevlar. It had allowed him to swim underwater the vast distance it had taken to reach the Big Shell from shore, undetected by sensors while the Kasatka kept everyone occupied above.

Now he retrieved his M9 pistol, closed the trapdoor and approached the watertight door which served as the only exit out of the room. He knew the Big Shell like the back of his hand, had researched the layout and likely formations and patrol routes of soldiers at key points in each strut, bridge and most importantly, the core of Shell 1.

He twisted the handle of the watertight door, hearing it squeak and wondering if anyone would hear. But they were on the helipad, and when the door finally came to he faced a small balcony which led to a long drop to the ocean below. Across the space there was a door which opened automatically; one of the few which had no security clearance setting. He was in the downstairs section of Strut E.

He could hear the whirr of the conveyor belt above, drowning out all other sound including rifle fire from outside. He advanced slowly up the stairs, pistol primed for any sudden encounter. He reached the main floor and looked around cautiously. There was a security camera at the far end, monitoring the exit to the CD bridge, but no sentries in sight. He moved quickly but carefully, over to the node terminal which was accessed with a biometric handprint. James retrieved a slim cassette from his pocket and inserted it into the slot. The screen flashed once and granted him access.

Working quickly, he accessed the system which monitored incoming and outgoing packages. He disabled the mechanism which used an x-ray scanner - often used to scan for bombs or poison - and overrode the system which would provide feedback on this fault. He selected a package that had just been put on the conveyor belt, commandeered a mechanised claw to isolate it for independent review and set a timer for retrieval. He had just enough time to log out of the system, retrieve his disc and headed downstairs when he heard voices and paused, hidden in the shadows.

"Where have you been, dick?" reprimanded a sharp, female voice.

"Relax," replied a male voice. "I've got my men handling it. I need my grenade launcher."

"Here," came the contemptuous reply.

"You're not coming?" asked the male.

"I'm staying here in case the chopper comes back. I don't leave my post unguarded, thank you very much."

James made his way downstairs, to the little alcove he had come in from. He took an adjacent door which led him into a sorting area, where the crate of rations had been opened by a mechanised claw, hovering ominously above.

James climbed onto the sorting area, switching the safety onto his pistol as he pulled his knees into a hugging position with his pistol tightly wedged within. Seconds later, the mechanised claw assembled the package which enclosed James within and lifted him onto the conveyor belt, not without some considerable whirring at the increased weight. Cramped tight without light or breathing space, James felt the conveyor belt move underneath and hoped he would make it.

Adam

His men had shot the Kasatka to brilliant hell, and it only just managed to move out of sight as it lowered upon the BC bridge.

"Half of you stay here when the chopper comes back. The other half comes with me," ordered Adam, heading downstairs into the base of Strut A.

His men kept up with him as Adam tore around the corner, connecting his codec to Clara's.

"What?" she said angrily.

"The Kasatka's on the BC bridge," he said. "Half my men will meet yours there."

"Done," she said, hanging up.

Zoe

"They've landed on the BC bridge," reported Grace. "Can you send your soldiers outside?"

"Alright," said Zoe grudgingly. The elevator doors opened and she stepped out onto the first floor.

"The chopper's landed," Zoe shouted in as loud a voice as she could manage without flinching. She turned to the two soldiers guarding the elevator. "You two stay here. The rest of you - follow me."

Zoe walked off, but realised seconds later that only a few soldiers were following. Enraged, she turned the corner to find the majority of her unit waiting by the elevator, noncompliant. The sheepish few who had obeyed backed off a step.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, face puce. Her grip tightened on the hilt of her sword. "We're under attack!"

She felt the cold butt of a rifle on the back of her neck at the same time all the other soldiers raised theirs.

"Drop the sword," ordered one of the guards near the elevator, all of them undoubtedly in agreement.

If only one of them was closer, she'd stab every man to bits. But she flexed her fingers and let the blade clatter to the tiles.

Grace

Grace jumped in her seat when she heard the loud beep of the node terminal. She had been watching with fervour the intense firefight between the SEALs who had swung down from long ropes onto the BC bridge via their damaged Kasatka. Clara's men from Strut B had them on an edge, since the SEALs couldn't advance across the bridge to Shell 1 without sustaining heavy fire.

Grace strode over to the node terminal, bringing up the surveillance feed of the Shell 1 elevator. A guard stood lone. She enabled the audio feed.

"We've got a casualty," said he, panic-stricken as two guards hoisted a limp figure between them. "She needs medical attention."

"I'm not a nurse!" she shrieked, but then realised what he had said. "Who is that?"

They moved aside to reveal Zoe, blood on her lip and eyes comatose, barely conscious. She had a black eye and her clothes were ripped.

"Jesus Christ!" Grace swore. She depressed the button for the elevator, opening the doors. "Quickly!"

Grace tore around the room, looking for anything resembling medical equipment. No luck.

"Shit! Bloody fucking hell!" she swore again.

Clara

"We've killed them, commander," came the triumphant reply on the other end. Clara managed a grim smile.

"All of them?"

"All of them," he confirmed. "They put up a bloody good show of it, but then the men from Strut C overwhelmed them."

"What about the Kasatka?" asked Clara. She stood lone on the helipad, USP drawn and looking out to the glittering sea in the dusk sunset.

"Gone, but no survivors save the pilot. He won't come back. That chopper won't survive another beating."

"Good," said Clara. "Check any casualties amongst your men, then check the SEALs for ID. They may have equipment we need."

"Yes, commander," said he, disconnecting.

Adam

He arrived just as the action ended. After confirming from one of Clara's soldiers that the SEALs had been eliminated, Adam dismissed his men to their regular patrols and received a call from Clara promptly after.

"Check the SEALs," she said. "Send anything good to me."

"Will do," agreed Adam.

There were seven SEALs recovered; three had been shot overboard and now rested at the bottom of the ocean. Clara's soldiers dragged them in, leaving large trails of blood in their wake. They were equipped with rifles or shotguns, some even with pistols and all were properly outfitted in Kevlar. There had been four casualties on Clara's side and three of Max's men had perished.

"They were better equipped," remarked one, who was strapping his own arm wound. He panted heavily and had to sit down. "But we had more men than they did."

The SEALs had no equipment of further value, so Adam left Clara's men to their stations and let her know as much. She remarked that the bodies should be tossed overboard and disconnected to give her men that order.

Adam emerged onto the BC bridge, littered with bullet casings and streaks of blood, looking out to the dusk sunset. They had come through the first challenge, but what was next?

James

He felt a rough drop as the crate he was contained within landed on a hard surface. He had made it.

The alcove he had landed in was out of sight, closest to the walled enclosure of the computers than the elevator. He stretched his muscles and ripped the cardboard packing, taking a great breath of air and standing quite still as the cardboard rustled uselessly beneath him. He heard the frantic sounds of footsteps and took a peek round the corner.

Glass partitions surrounded the banks of computers, all unused but for the faintly glowing screen far off, where a swivel chair sat unattended while a dark-haired girl scattered boxes of CDs and floppy disks, looking in vain for something.

He hadn't thought he would get this far, not without confronting legions of well-equipped mercenaries beforehand. He readied his M9 pistol, switching off the safety. It was loaded with tranq darts, which took effect instantly if fired in the head but took a delay if the aim was anything less than perfect.

Noticing the girl had her back turned, he moved quickly across to the exterior of the glass partition, the bottom half solid metal where the top half was transparent glass. He moved closer, cocking his pistol and listening carefully. He heard her stand and her voice carry to where he hid, which meant that she was facing him. When her shrieks became muffled again, he knew she was glancing in the other direction and he took this opportunity to stand, raising the pistol level with her head.

Grace

She saw the movement and gasped when she saw the pistol pointed at her head. He was nobody she recognised, wearing a suit vastly dissimilar to those of the soldiers she had seen and didn't have a rifle unlike them.

"What did you do to Zoe?" she yelled.

"What?" he asked, flummoxed.

"You hurt her, you bastard!" she took an angry step forward, but he motioned her to back off with his pistol.

"Stay calm and you won't get hurt," he said, his tone at odds with the threat he posed. "Turn around and access the computer."

"I won't do what you say!" Grace shrieked. "How did you get in? There are reinforcements coming on the elevator as we speak!"

There came a loud, endless shriek from beyond as Grace whipped around, hearing Zoe's voice.

"What the hell?" said James.

"Zoe!" breathed Grace. She wanted to shriek but had enough sense to know she'd definitely get shot.

"Fuck off, you assholes!" came the reply from afar, then a harsh pummel and there was no further sound.

"What the - " Grace gasped and turned back to the stairs at the far end. "Those soldiers! They've turned on her!"

To her surprise, her attacker grabbed her by the arm firmly and led her through the banks of computers.

"Where are you taking me?" she demanded, trying to resist his iron grip.

"They're going to kill you if you don't shut up," he growled, motioning her in the alcove from which he had come. "Don't say a word."

She heard footsteps and felt the pistol on her neck, scared for her friend more than for herself.

"The fucking bitch," said one guard, his accent thick like a Russian.

"It's him!" whispered Grace, nudged harshly to be quiet. "One of Zoe's soldiers! They told me she was wounded - "

"Shut up," he pinched her tight and she remained quiet.

"Leave her on the floor," said the Russian. "The bitch can bleed to death for all I bloody care."

"Nice sword, though," remarked another. "Too bad it's useless against guns."

There was a chorus of laughter and Grace stiffened in anger. What had they done to her?

"Where's the girl?" demanded the Russian loudly.

"Perhaps she's been tipped off," suggested one.

"If she'd been tipped off, we'd have been shot at by now. She's hiding in here somewhere. Find her."

As footsteps resumed, Grace whispered, "They're gonna find us!"

"Listen to me," whispered her escort. "When I give you the signal, you're going to go out there and protest what they're doing to your friend, just like you did with me. You're very convincing."

"What are you going to do?" asked Grace.

"They can't withstand an assault from your friends, so if they're in here they'll try to take you hostage. They'll want you to lock your friends out from the inside, so this is what you have to do."

Max

Max rifled in the kitchen for something to eat. The rations were the worst food he'd ever tasted in his life. To his dismay, he found nothing he could cook, only a heap of utensils and pans he had no clue how to use.

"Fuck," he slammed a cupboard closed and walked into the cafeteria, where the few men who were on their break sat munching their MREs.

"How do you eat that shit?" asked Max, taking a seat opposite them.

"It's not so bad once you've had it half a dozen times," grinned the soldier, chewed mush between his teeth.

Max grimaced to himself and rose from his seat, dialing Grace on his codec. She didn't pick up.

"Shit!" he said to himself. "I'm off to Shell 1. Who's coming with me?"

The two guards stood, brushing the crumbs off and pulling balaclavas on their heads. One in front and one behind Max, the three filed through Strut C and onto the BC bridge, where the darkened horizon was a bruised purple with arcs of crimson light soaring across the sky.

The littered bodies of the SEALs had been removed, with the only evidence to suggest a scuffle the wide array of bullet holes in the railings and the dried blood splattered at intervals.

Max crossed the bridge and entered Shell 1. The hallway was empty, not a sound to be heard.

"Maybe she's killed off her men," joked one of the guards.

Max laughed as they headed towards the elevator. "Yeah."

Shots fired as they rounded the corner and Max leapt back in surprise, for the guard in front had fallen prey to bullet holes that stained his chest a deep red. Max readied his shotgun and shouted, "Come out, fucker!"

When there was no reply, Max took a frag grenade off the belt of the soldier beside him, pulled the pin and chucked it round the corner.

"AAH, SHIT - "

The explosion rocked the walls and Max rounded the corner with his shotgun, firing like the madman he was. When the smoke cleared and the clip ran dry, Max reloaded as he saw the battered corpses, strewn in pieces from the shrapnel. Max could see that both had silver numbers visible over their bloodied uniforms.

"Shit," he said, looking up at the security camera.

"Boss," panted the soldier who had aided in his firefight. "I think they turned on her."

Zoe

Feebly she spat blood, but she knew better than to rise. What was left of her unit crowded the computer room, rifles cocked at her while the Russian banged his fist on the desk, angered over the computer denying him access. He marched over to Zoe's limp body, grabbed her by the scruff of her top and dragged her across to the terminal. Twice he slammed her face into the desk and she felt pain course through her body.

"Call that little girl and get her in here," he spat in her face.

She had resisted his interrogation since he had taken her hostage, but she felt her will waning and spat out phlegm mixed with blood.

"Pass me her sword," he said. "We'll cut the bitch with her own blade - "

"STOP!" came the bloodcurdling shriek.

Footsteps hurried and rifles readjusted. Through the haze of pain Zoe could glance at the reflection in the computer monitor and saw a diminutive figure standing lone amidst the rifle-toting madmen.

The Russian tossed Zoe onto the floor, where she landed painfully on her side, but able to see Grace in the flesh. The Russian towered over her, his shotgun aimed at her face.

"We've been looking for you," he said. He grabbed her by the shoulder and threw her in the direction of the computer, where she stumbled and tripped upon the floor.

"Get up, slut," he said, yanking her up by her hair and causing her to shriek. He gave her a backhand that sent her sprawling to the floor in agony.

"You bastard," spat Zoe.

The Russian turned to her, grinned and hit Zoe with the butt of his rifle. She saw nothing but black.

"Zoe!" Grace shrieked, silenced again by another hit.

"Access the terminal!" roared the Russian. "Now!"

Whimpering and bloodied, Grace silently obeyed and placed her palm flat against the monitor. It flashed once, then granted her access.

"There we go," he breathed. He knocked Grace aside where she fell to the floor beside Zoe, who lay unconscious. She blinked back tears and tried to breathe.

Max

He continued to stare at the camera, thinking hard. If they had Zoe, pressing the button would alert them to his presence. They'd know their guards were down. Even worse, if they had Grace, they could lock him and Clara and Adam and all their troops out of the computer room. Then they were truly fucked.

"Boss - "

"Shut up!" growled Max. "I'm trying to think!"

He answered the call on his codec which buzzed in his ear like an annoying fly. "What?"

"Max?" asked Clara.

"Clara, listen," said Max.

"What's happening?" asked Adam.

"Why did you call us all at once?" demanded Clara.

"What?" Max was confused and pissed off all at once. "You called me!"

"I called you," came an unfamiliar voice. It was quiet, but clear.

"Who is this?" attacked three voices at once.

"One of your commanders has been taken hostage inside the computer room by her own men. The girl has been taken, too - "

"Grace?" Adam asked.

"Zoe?" repeated Clara. "By her own men?"

"Wait," Max interrupted. "Who are you and how the fuck do you know any of this?"

"That's not important. The soldiers already have access to the computer mainframe. By now they'll have revoked your security clearances and every door will be locked to you."

"What?" shouted Adam.

"I'm in Shell 1," said Max. "I just killed the soldiers guarding the elevator."

"When were you going to tell us?" Clara demanded.

"On my signal, Grace will make a run for the node terminal. You'll need to call the elevator when I do."

"How are you doing all of this?" asked Adam.

"She's put my codec on a passive frequency. She can hear me when I patch in," said the voice. "Once Grace's buzzed you in, you'll need to go to B2. Be careful - they're armed and dangerous."

"That's a stupid plan," said Adam. "They'll kill Grace if she tries anything."

"I'm going to alert Grace," said the voice. "Wait until I've given the signal."

Grace

Grace lay silent as the Russian tapped on the keyboard, murmuring to himself, clearly no competency with computers whatsoever. The intruder had told her that would hit her, but she hadn't planned on being knocked around so much. She could see the alcove which housed the node terminal.

She felt the buzzing in her ear and heard the voice as plain as day, that only she heard:

"Go."

Every one of Zoe's guards heard a buzzing from their radio, and as they instinctively looked down at their belts, Grace forced herself up off the ground, hurtling for the alcove which housed the node terminal. She slammed her fist against the screen just as the node beeped loudly to indicate the elevator was being called.

She turned and pressed the button on the wall, sealing herself inside the node alcove seconds before a rally of gunfire pierced the bulletproof glass. Barely breathing, shocked senseless, she watched as the guards fumed and kicked and swore. The Russian banged on the glass door, surprised that it was so inflexible and pressed his face up against the glass.

"What've you done, you little bitch?" he roared, flecks of spittle flying from his mouth as he spoke. "You open this bloody door or I'll slit this bitch's throat!"

But when he turned, the inanimate figure that was Zoe ceased to be. He roared. "Where'd she go?"

"Put the disc in the slot," spoke the voice in Grace's ear. "Quickly! It'll give you remote access to the computer mainframe."

Grace did as she was bade, hearing the furious grunts muffled by the sound barrier. Her pulse quickened; she wasn't entirely sure the glass would hold up any longer. The screen flashed once and granted her access. To her surprise, she could see the main screen of her original computer.

"I'm in," said Grace. A furious blow cracked the glass and she flinched.

"Click on emergency settings and remove the access levels on all doors. It'll allow your friend in the elevator to get through the B2 security doors."

Another bang on the glass door and Grace whipped around, shocked. The man's fury was there for all to see as he picked up the swivel chair and threw it against the glass door, shattering it into a million shards.

Zoe

Cloaked in stealth camouflage, Zoe limped as she watched Grace lock herself in the terminal room while the Russian raged and swore. She made her way to the passage outside, noticing her sword lying on the floor beside the leg of one of the soldiers. Slowly, without making a sound, she grabbed the hilt of the sword just as there was a shattering of glass and she heard Grace shriek in fear.

Zoe lunged upwards with the sword and embedded it in the soldier's neck, withdrawing it to tumult and chaos before she slashed another soldier in the throat. She threw herself behind the lower half of the partition as the men aimed and fired where she stood only moments before. Her stealth camouflage had ran out.

The soldier who rounded the corner saw Zoe collapsed on the floor and aimed his rifle, collapsing just as suddenly in a heap on the floor. Zoe could see the tranq dart embedded in the space between his eyes.

She glanced around but saw nobody, save for the alcove that -

Max

Max rounded the corner with his shotgun ready, his sole comrade raising his assault rifle to the threat that loomed within the confines of the glass partitions enclosing the computer room.

"HEEEEEELP!" came the cry that sounded above the rifle fire.

Max ran down the corridor, blasting the first guard he saw off his feet and turning the corner, where Zoe lay slumped on the floor, sword abandoned. His comrade fell in a hail of gunfire which Max returned in kind, adding to the body count as he moved on quickly.

"Put down your weapon or I'll kill the bitch!" came a roar from nearby.

Max rounded the corner, shotgun aimed, to find four times his number with rifles raised to his face. He could see the crumpled, defeated figure of Grace in a tight embrace with the Russian, whose pistol he stuck to her head.

"I'll kill the bitch," he warned, jutting the butt of his pistol into her skull. Grace whimpered weakly and silent tears fell down her face. "Drop your weapon!"

James

James had fired the tranq shot which the ginger-haired ninja hadn't noticed hit her thigh, then fired at the soldier who had rounded the corner, intent to kill. Both had crumpled within seconds, but what surprised James was that the ginger-haired commander had stealth camouflage! Before he could reach it, however, he had heard thundering footsteps, belonging to that of the commander and his one guard as reinforcements to the situation. In his opinion, this commander was ready to die in a shower of bullets and clearly had no concern to gauge the situation first. His comrade fell quickly but the commander stuck through the onslaught.

James crept towards the fallen figure of the ginger-haired girl, unlatching the metal device from her belt and attaching it to his own. It had barely any battery power remaining.

He activated it, noticing how sudden the change was and how the camouflage refracted the light around his body, making him invisible. He rounded the corner to where the shotgun-toting commander stood mute, outnumbered and outgunned, and aimed his pistol over Max's shoulder to the Russian and fired, landing a hit that caused him to crumple immediately and like dominoes, every one of his shoulders turned to look.

Grace

Released from the Russian's grip, Grace hid underneath the desk as bullets flew from both directions. She closed her eyes tightly and hugged her knees close. When she opened her eyes, the floor was littered with spent bullet casings and limp bodies. She crawled out and saw Max walking up to her.

"What happened?" asked Grace. She could barely breathe.

"Shit," said Max, glancing at her face. "What did he do to you?"

"He's not dead," said Grace, glancing at the Russian. "He's snoring."

Max knelt and studied the tranq dart sticking out from between the Russian's eyes. "He's been knocked out."

Grace gasped, colour returning to her cheeks. She leant in, whispering, "Max, there's an intruder here. There's a guy who's been giving me instructions on what to do."

"What?" asked Max. "He's here?"

"He's over there!" said Grace, pointing to the alcove where she had been taken hostage.

Cautiously, Max rounded the corner, but he returned, shaking his head. "There's nobody there."

Grace gasped as Max crumpled and fell, and she saw why. The intruder in his sneaking suit reappeared, the stealth camouflage wearing off in the same instant he pointed the pistol at her.

"How did you - "

Hesitantly, he pulled the trigger and she crumpled. A sudden beep from the node terminal caused him to look up. He walked across the shattered glass to where the surveillance feed showed the two remaining commanders, a male and female, both blonde, with an army of soldiers between them.

"Well done," spoke the parrot, not a second before James hit the emergency alarm and sirens went off.

On either side of the staircases leading up to the elevator, the wall slid apart to reveal an elevator. He walked gingerly over the sleeping figure of the young girl, kicked aside the shotgun that the commander called Max had been using and walked down the corridor, into the elevator and pressed the buzzer.

When the doors slid shut and the vestibule descended, everyone jerked back into reality, looking up from the pods in which they had experienced the simulation.

Evaluation

Adam showed promise in rallying his troops to the common cause. While he did not have a chance to show off any skills in particular including combat or gunfire, he took pride in assembling his troops when necessary, including during the Kasatka assault.

During the hostage situation in the Shell 1 core, he was unable to participate as he was locked in Strut A when his security credentials were revoked. By the time he reached the Shell 1 core, the challenge was lost.

Clara was quick to assign patrol routes and duties for her soldiers, tolerating no backchat and double-checking that they were on top of things. It was her unit which reported the sighting of the Kasatka and she herself lead the charge atop the heliport when the assault on the Big Shell began. They took few casualties. Clara was quick to commandeer her soldiers in Strut B to circumvent the SEALs on the BC connecting bridge, providing cover fire until she was reinforced by Max's unit from Strut C shortly after.

Together they won a small victory.

During the hostage situation in the Shell 1 core, she was unable to participate as she was locked in Strut E when her security credentials were revoked. By the time she reached the Shell 1 core, the challenge was lost.

Max forged a camaraderie with his men that spoke of true teamwork when the time came, although he failed in his duty to assign them patrol routes. The Kasatka assault occurred while Strut F was unmanned, leaving Clara to take the helm and Max to aid only in the last vestiges of battle on the BC connecting bridge. They won, but incurred casualties.

Max was in the Shell 1 core just after the hostage situation began. He took care of the soldiers guarding the elevator and, thanks to a mystery caller, was able to access the elevator with one of his soldiers and rescue Grace and Zoe from the enemy. He was tranq'd by an unknown assailant and lost the challenge shortly after.

Zoe encountered problems from the start while trying to give her men orders. She punished one soldier's insubordination with instant death, earning their immediate mutiny. She posted them throughout the Shell 1 core, but Zoe struggled with having failed her unit so early, as a communication with Max in Strut C reveals.

At the time of the Kasatka assault, Zoe was nervous but insistent to rally her men to fight the cause. They turned on her, knocked her unconscious and gained entry to B2 parading Zoe as a casualty of war.

Zoe remained strong, however; her repeated attempts to stay conscious alerted Grace to her plight and gave her time to hide. Grace was found, however, and the enemy gained access of the mainframe.

Zoe took advantage of an unguarded moment to slip away undetected using her stealth camouflage, retrieve her sword and take out a few enemy soldiers. However, she was tranq'd during the firefight and the challenge was lost shortly after.

Grace tried her best to keep up with her comrades. During a scuffle with Zoe's bodyguards, she was momentarily incapacitated but, aided by James' instruction, she managed to help Max get into B2 computer room to help defuse the insubordinate threat. She was tranq'd by James soon after.

After a bit of wetwork and espionage, James showed initiative in gaining access to B2 through Strut E's parcel network. He masterminded a plot to relieve Grace of access so that he could gain access to Arsenal by the end.


End file.
